Current mood:	annoyed
Current music:	none

Continued to climb despite my friends' better judgement...
Hey folks,

I guess I should explain the title of this one, but I think the scars, scrapes, and sore muscles pretty much tells the tale for me.

This past weekend I, along with my friends (whose names have been changed to protect the non-stupid - "Doc", "Nature Boy", "Tha Twinz", and "Soldya Boy") went down to Seaside, Oregon for three days of road trips, junk food, DVD's, CD's, and alleged "p*ssy" (despite the fact that all of these men - 'cept me - are in committed relationships).

Once we arrived we headed down to the beach in Oregon State Park (interestingly enough this is the beach where the classic 80's film "The Goonies" was filmed) and decided to first play some good old "beach footbol" (beach soccer to the non-footbol lover). After getting waxed 10-4 and damn near having a heart attack, the guys decied they were going to go on a hike down the beach and see many of the beautiful natural waterfalls and eroded etchings in the cliff walls. I joined along because, well, I don't do a lot of hiking, but it was something to do to burn off more calories.

Then folks, the true stupidity set in.

About an hour and a half into our hike, we see the ultimate rock wall (no handhelds, and more grass and dirt than solid ground), and we decided to try to scale it, thinking we could get back to the main road. The climb itself was fine...well, it was for my friends. They decided to stop when falling rock became a serious concussion hazard.

Unfortunately, I didn't get the message, and I kept climbing. Keep in mind in the climbing party, I was third (two sensible people ahead of me, and two behind me). I had something to prove, and a view to see, so I kept climbing. I finished my climb at about two hundred feet up, not getting to the main road, but seeing the most beautiful view of my life and what could have possibly been my last view if I had fallen off.

Thanks to one of Tha Twinz, that didn't happen, and I am greatful. "Nazzy" guided me back down the rock face and back on solid ground. I got handshakes from the rest of the crew and a big hug from "Doc" who was convinced he would have to actually ply his craft on the trip had I fallen, and a shitload of scoldings for being dumb, but dammit, I felt good about it, and I lived to talk about it, and that is all that matters.

Then we went to Seattle and watched the Garden Gnome we had originally nicknamed "Leon Chompsky" take a trip to the Pike Place Market, and, courtesy of the group that throws fish, we watched our good friend Chompsky get whacked courtesy of a six-foot katana Blade usually used to cut Marlin. So Chompsky became Chopsky and we continued on.

Now I am sore and tired, so I am outta here. Good night.